Twelve Years
by PomKat
Summary: COMPLETE! CHAPTER TEN ADDED! 'When he kills these women, he's actually killing you.' All eyes turned on her as the last word was spoken.
1. Alexandra Eames

-1Disclaimer: 'Law and Order: Criminal Intent' and all its characters belong to Dick Wolf. Not me. : (

A/N: Another idea for a story popped into my head while I was jotting down a little clip from an unknown CI fanfiction today at school. So, here it is. I know, I should be finishing my other three stories I have still open, but the monkeys are back.

---

_Twelve Years // Chapter One: Alexandra Eames_

Alexandra Eames was a cop. She might've not looked it, but deep down in her core, everything screamed cop. She wore her gun as most women would have worn a precious diamond necklace and she was closer to her partner than most women were to their husbands. Everything around her, even if she didn't realize it, would be analyzed in her sharp honey-colored eyes. She accomplished more amazing feats in one day than many people would be able to complete in a life time. She had taken lives when it came to saving someone else's. She chewed up suspects daily and dreamed about murder nightly. Alexandra Eames lived and breathed cop.

Alex scribbled down the last of her report and chugged what was left of the cold, stale coffee in the paper cup on her desk. With a quick sigh of relief and a stretch to go with it, the woman rose to grab her coat from the wooden coat rack behind her. "Hey, Bobby, wanna go get a drink?" she asked the man who was sitting at the desk across from hers.

"On a Wednesday night?" he asked, peering up at her through amused brown eyes.

"It's just one drink," she sneered back, even though there was a smile on her face.

"That's what you said last time," Bobby told her, and stood to collect his things.

Alex shuddered at the memory of the last time the two went out for drinks as she and her partner headed for the elevator. "How about dinner instead?" Bobby suggested as he poked at the down button.

Being asked to dinner by a handsome man might have made most women blush, but Alex merely nodded and stepped into the elevator. She had been with Bobby for nearly seven years now. She had fallen asleep in his apartment over bad Chinese and murder, she had gotten so drunk that she couldn't remember the night before and had to be carried home by him, she had shrugged off the rumors that had been thrown around about them, and had climbed the obstacles that sometimes came between them. Most people would have called it love. Alex called it being a good partner.

"I'll drive," she said, even though Bobby knew he wasn't going to be able to get behind the wheel in the first place. "I'll follow you home, then we can go in mine. Does that sound good?"

"Yup," Bobby replied as the doors slipped open and the two stepped out.

"Where do you wanna go? It's your choice this time," Alex reminded him as the click of her heels echoed through the garage.

"Oh yeah, it is." He smiled, glad she remembered and stopped beside his car to think. "How about Inshoku?" he asked, referring to the fancy little Japanese restaurant a few blocks up from his apartment.

Alex nodded, grinned at him. "Sounds good. And a quick changes of plans; I'll meet you at your apartment in a few, I gotta drop by my house real quick."

"Okay. See you then." Bobby watched her walk to her car before he slipped into his own and backed out.

Alex cranked the heat once settled inside her vehicle, an action she hoped would fend off the cold of New York's brutal winter, and pulled out. She drove out of the garage and sped home, wanting to be brief about her side trip. Alex slipped into her driveway and jumped out of the car, kept it running. It was only a quick in and out thing, right?

It was the smell that hit her first. The smell of death. There was no way you could mistake it. Cautiously, Alex drew her gun as she peered up the steps to her building. Spread out at the top was a limp figure, and through the dull moonlight she saw the eerie sparkling of blood. Staring around to make sure the area was safe and secure, Alex pulled out her cell phone, dialed. When a voice at the other end rang out, she said, "This is Detective Alexandra Eames, badge number 3798. I have a homicide."


	2. Robert Goren

-1Disclaimer: 'Law and Order: Criminal Intent' and all its characters belong to Dick Wolf. Not me. : (

A/N: Another chapter. Blah, blah, blah. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews!

---

_Twelve Years // Chapter Two: Robert Goren_

It was strange how he could go from best friend to murder cop at the snap of a finger. Nearly half an hour ago, murder was the farthest thing from Robert Goren's mind and now he stood over it, studying it, examining it, trying to figure out what happened to this deceased person in the last few minutes of their life. Who had they seen? What had they said? What had they heard?

It was when he was turning the corpse's battered head to the side that his partner came over. "We sent the prints in, just to make sure that this person is who her licenses says she is," Alex explained as she handed over the small laminated card. He read it through the evidence bag.

"Diane McNeal," he told himself, then turned his eyes to Alex. "Isn't she. . ."

"Top anchor for New York News, yeah." Alex blew out a breath of air, stared out to the empty street. She knew that soon, _very soon_, it would be swarming with nosy media and interested bystanders. There would be shouts asking for interviews, questions about the murder, things that the detectives would have to ignore. Something that only made their job harder.

Alex looked down at her partner, watched as he poked and prodded at the dead. A major invasion of someone's privacy, but hey, a job was a job and you had to do it if you wanted to get paid.

But getting paid wasn't the part Bobby loved. Most cops wouldn't admit to liking their job. Sure, they liked keeping their community safe, but what you did to keep the community in question safe was not very likeable at all. With Bobby, however, it was different. He dived into a murder, wasn't able to be dragged out of it until it was solved. Being able to put a family's worry to rest was what gave Bobby a sense of accomplishment. Being able to stick up for someone who was no longer able to do it themselves was why Robert Goren loved his job.

"I think the face beating was postmortem," Bobby said as he rose to stand beside his partner. "I'm not positive - we'll have to check with the ME before we can be sure - but I think the three shots to the torso was what killed Ms. McNeal."

"You're thinking this was a rage killing?"

"Yeah." Bobby looked up at his partner's home, then over to his partner. She didn't look affected by the fact that she had found a bloody and beaten body on her doorstep. Then again, after nearly two decades as a cop, nothing surprised Alex. "Is it coincidence that this body was dumped on your doorstep?"

"Nothing's coincidence anymore," she told him as she wrapped her around her body. It was an action, to anyone that didn't know her, that signaled she was trying to keep her body warm against the harsh cold. But Bobby could see through that. He could tell she was scared, even if it was in the slightest bit. He stripped the blood-coated gloves off of his hands and signaled to the CSUs who lingered near the sidewalk.

"Bag her."

---

They made it to One PP in under half an hour. To some people, it might have been strange or even stupid to go back to the workplace they just left, but to Bobby and Alex, it was quite normal. With murder lingering around every corner, you had to anticipate it. And accept it.

"Send it to one-five," Ross said simply, referring to the NYPD's Homicide Unit. When his detectives only stared at him, he scowled. "Something special about this murder?"

"The body was left at Eames' doorstep," Bobby told him, even though his captain was already quite aware of that little fact.

"Maybe the killer was trying to make a point? 'Look at me, I'm big and bad. I leave bodies on the stoop of a cop's house.' Eames' home was probably random. Picked off a big list of top cops."

"Or maybe it was more like, 'Look at me, I'm big and bad. I leave bodies on the stoop of Detective Alexandra Eames.'"

Ross scowled, knowing that he had been proved wrong. "If another body doesn't turn up near Eames soon, I want this sent to the one-five." And with that, the captain turned on his heels to walk away. It was well past time his shift ended.

"I love how you guys talk about me like I'm a chair," Alex said with an eye roll.

"Sorry, Eames." Bobby gave her a quick pat on the back as they walked together towards the elevator. "You gonna go to your parents'?"

_Damn_, Alex cursed to herself when she realized that she wasn't going home tonight. Her freaking house was a freaking crime scene. With a scoff, she jammed her finger on the down button and stuffed her hands into her pockets. "Can I stay at your place?" she asked. "I'd rather not impose on my parents."

"But it's okay to impose on me?" Bobby joked. Any other man would have taken advantage of Alex's current situation, but being the gentleman and good friend he was, Bobby kept those thoughts away from his busy mind.

"Aw, you know you like it," Alex replied back with a laugh as she gave him a little bump with her hip. He chuckled while he shook his head and stepped into the elevator. "I'll take the couch," she told him.

Since they'd driven to One PP in Bobby's car, Alex slipped into the passenger's seat and buckled up. Once inside, Bobby started the car and pulled out. Feeling out of control and a little awkward about not being behind to wheel, Alex fidgeted with the hem of her blouse. Catching this, Bobby grinned. "My car," he taunted, causing her to playfully scowl.

Once they arrived at his apartment, Alex sat her purse on the coffee table and plopped down face first on the hardly-used couch. With a sigh, she turned to look up at Bobby who was crossing the living room to his bedroom. "Night," she called.

"Goodnight," he said back, and smiled at her as he shut the door.

It would have been awkward for most couples to sleep in totally different rooms without being mad at each other. But then again, Bobby and Alex weren't most couples.


	3. Secret Admirer

-1Disclaimer: 'Law and Order: Criminal Intent' and all its characters belong to Dick Wolf. Not me. : (

Warning: Harsh language.

A/N: So many wonderful reviews! I love you guys so much, you keep me writing!

Just to clear something up, in the last chapter I made a mention to Alex and Bobby being a couple and by _couple,_ I just meant two people who spend a lot of time together. Not a couple as in like marriage or anything. Sorry about the confusion.

**And I think I get off-character in this chapter. Please tell me if you think so too so I can fix it!**

Anyways, here's another chapter. Hope you like.

---

_Twelve Years // Chapter Three: Secret Admirer_

Alex hissed as sunlight erupted into the room. Groggily, she rolled over to stare at the man who had flicked open the blinds. "You're so mean," she moaned, and stuffed a pillow over her head.

"Shift starts in 45 minutes," replied Bobby and had the woman jumping to her feet.

"Damn it!" she growled, and nearly tripped over the shoes she had dumped onto the floor the night before as she snatched up the duffle bag she had stuffed with clothes. Chuckling, Bobby watched her dart into the bathroom and then settled himself down at the kitchen table to read the paper.

Once in the apartment's small bathroom, Alex punished herself by taking a cold shower. She bit back the curses and shivered as goosebumps crawled up and down her spine.

Bobby had fallen upon the article that went deeper into the death of Diane McNeal and was reading it by the time Alex jogged back in. He stared at her for a moment, studied her crisp, ready-for-work attire, and then glanced at the clock on the stove. "Twenty minutes. I think that's a new record."

"Ha ha. Laugh it up, Mr. Early Bird." Alex rolled her honey eyes, but their was a grin gracing her lips. When she walked past him to get to the door, she tapped his jaw. "Missed a spot."

Confused, Bobby ran his fingers along his jawbone, scowled at the prickly patch of whiskers he had accidentally skipped over while shaving earlier that morning. He looked over to his snickering partner and rose to meet her at the door.

---

While Bobby stopped to pump gas into near-empty car, Alex lingered around inside of the Short-Stop, looking for the coffee machine. She found one quickly and grabbed two cups to fill up. The detective was digging around in her wallet while at the front counter when an older teenager at the register said, "Hey, do I know you?"

Alex looked up, studied the rosy face of the clerk. "No, I don't think so," she replied and handed her a ten.

The girl cocked her head to one side, then just-like-that her eyes lit up and she beamed. "Oh! You're that detective!" she exclaimed. "I've seen you on the news. Alexandra Eames, right?" Alex nodded and the clerk continued. "You and your partner are, like, the top detectives for Major Case Squad. Is he here with you?" She peered over her shoulder and through the window out to the man who was pumping gas. "Oh," she cooed. "He's _much_ cuter in person."

Alex couldn't help but snort out a laugh. "He's old enough to be your dad," she informed the girl.

The other female only smiled as she rang up the drinks. "I like older men. They have more experience."

Alex waved her a good-bye and trotted through the snow that was already sticking to the ground. She slipped into the heated car only moments later and handed over Bobby's coffee while she took a sip of her own. "The clerk in there was hitting out you. She said you were _much _cuter in person," she explained with a laugh.

Bobby shook his head, smiled, and pulled out onto the busy New York street.

---

They stopped only briefly at One PP to clock in and exchange vehicles. Once that small task was completed, they drove straight to New York News' production station. Because of the sudden and tragic death of one of their most beloved anchors, flowers, candles, and photos littered the snowy ground. Alex and Bobby had to carefully climb over them to get to the entrance where they stepped in and headed for the front desk.

"NYPD," Alex said with authority. "Where can we find Rebecca Segel?"

The young woman stared up at them through red-rimmed brown eyes. "Are you guys investigation Ms. McNeal's murder? Isn't it a tragic thing? Gosh, everyone loved her so much. Who could possible do such a thing to her? To her family? To us? I wish whoever did it would just - "

"Ma'am," Alex cut off the woman before she could go any further. "Segel, please."

"Oh, right." The woman sniffed, typed something on the keyboard in front of her, then read from her computer screen to the detectives. "Floor eight."

With that, the detectives turned on their heels and were off. They hopped into the elevator and zipped up to the eighth floor. It wasn't long before they found the short, black woman known as Becca. Alex held out her badge for the woman to examine as she asked, "Would you mind if we questioned you on Ms. McNeal's murder?"

"Goodness, no! I would be so honored if I could help." Becca dragged them over to a small sitting area where she perched herself in a fluffy chair across from them. "Fire away, detectives."

---

Becca proved to be little help, as well as everyone else at the station. Not one of them knew about the exclusive McNeal. No one knew if she had a boyfriend, she obviously never talked about her family, and there wasn't anyone who had ever been invited over for milk and cookies.

Settled just outside of Central Park, the apartment that formerly belonged to Diane McNeal was an elaborate place with sparkling chandeliers and couches that weren't meant to be sat on. With a whistle and a quick once-over of the flat, Alex said, "I need to change jobs."

Bobby grinned over at her as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves and began to rummage through the things of the deceased.

It turned out that the apartment was just about as helpful as Diane's coworkers. With no leads and not a single suspect, Alex and Bobby slipped back in the police-issued SUV. The female detective cranked the heat as her partner babbled on about the victim. "She's very protective of herself. She doesn't let people in. Is she afraid of something? Or is it just her nature?"

Alex gave a shrug and pulled out of the building's garage. "Guess we'll never know. It's not like we can ask her."

---

She blinked. Then turned to stare around the bullpen. Who was the sorry son-of-a-bitch that was going to get clocked in the face today?

"Heh." Bobby moved up to his partner's desk and examined the bouquet of blood-red roses on her desk. "Who's it from, Eames? A secret admirer?"

Alex bared her teeth at him, then plucked the card from the holster that lingered above the flowers. She read it silently to herself as Bobby smiled from the desk across from her:

_Hello, Alexandra._

_Did you enjoy the present I left for you last night? I thought these roses matched the color of her blood. _

_I hope we'll see each other soon._

_Signed,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

"Damn. Shit. Fuck." Alex flipped the card over, memorized the address of the florist and was storming to the elevator by the time Bobby had jumped to his feet.

"Eames! What is it?" he asked as he stepped into the elevator with her. She shoved the card at him and tapped her foot impatiently as the numbers clicked down. "Well, damn it." Bobby ran a hand through his hair, felt around in his pockets to see if he had an evidence bag. When his hands came up empty, he pulled a handkerchief from inside his jacket and wrapped the thick piece of paper around it. "Someone's after you."

When the elevator doors swung open to reveal the garage, Alex stomped towards the SUV. She was already in and sticking the key into the ignition by the time Bobby opened the passenger's door.

---

Betty's Flowers and Candles was a small little shop that settled itself on the outskirts of Manhattan. The owner (Betty, of course) was a small woman with a short crop of graying hair. She greeted the two as they entered and offered the day's special. When Alex slapped the card onto the table, she jumped and squeaked softly. "Who sent a dozen red roses to One PP, Major Case Squad, floor eleven, Alexandra Eames' desk?"

"Um, um." Frightened, the plump woman rummaged around under the counter until she found a thick, black binder. She dropped it onto the table with a small _thud _and flipped through it quickly. She read over it, finally falling upon the correct entry "H-his name is John Smith. Came off the streets, paid in cash." She shook her head rapidly. "That's all I have on that customer. He just said he need them delivered as soon as possible. Our policy is - "

"Did you get a good look at him?" Alex asked.

"N-no. He had a scarf over his mouth the whole time. T-there was a snow-cap on his head. B-but that's normal. It's the middle of winter."

"Did he touch anything? Was he wearing gloves?"

"Only the card. T-to sign it. And yes, h-he did."

Alex slammed a fist on the table, causing Betty to jump, and turned to stare outside at the falling snow. "Son-of-a-bitch. I'm being stalked."


	4. Number Two

-1Disclaimer: 'Law and Order: Criminal Intent' and all its characters belong to Dick Wolf. Not me. : (

A/N: There's a teeny reference to Blind Spot in this chapter. It's not a big, detailed summary, just a few sentences about the aftermath ( mostly made up by me ) of it. But if you're super big on not wanting to read spoilers or anything relating to them, you might want to get someone else to read this chapter and then summarize it for your listening pleasure. : )

Anywho, I really like how I turned Alex into Super Bitch in this chapter. Lol. Hope you guys do too! Enjoy reading! Reviews are like salt to my tomatoes; awesomely good.

---

_Twelve Years // Chapter Four: Number Two_

_Protective detail._

The two simple words the captain had spoken were still ringing in her ears. While tapping her pen furiously on her desk, Alex stared out into nothingness, trying to plot a way to escape the officers that would soon be trailing her everywhere she went. Wasn't Bobby enough protective detail for one woman? Ever since the incident with Jo Gage, Bobby had hardly left Alex's side. He drove her to work and home most days of the week and called whenever he didn't hear from her as often as he liked.

Speak of the devil. Bobby settled himself into his desk and stared over at his partner. Putting on his I'm-freaking-worried-about-you-but-I-won't-let-you-see-it face, he asked, "Hey, wanna go get some lunch?"

"Not hungry," she answered sharply, then regretted it when she saw the hurt flood into his chocolate-colored eyes. She sighed, sat her pen down and straightened. "Sorry. I'm just pissed off about this whole thing."

"You know, normal women would be scared, not pissed," he told her.

"Glad I'm not most women." Alex tried a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll put lunch on my to-do list. Dinner is right before that since we had to skip the one last night."

Bobby nodded. "I'll hold you to that."

---

The single security camera at the florist proved to actually be helpful. An electronics detective popped in the tape, fast-forwarded, and finally stopped at 10:56:07am. On the screen, as clear as an image could be in black and white, stood a tall man with a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face. He talked to Betty for a moment, kept his sentences short and to-the-point, and nodded at the bouquet of flowers she brought out for him to view. After signing the card and placing it in the roses himself, the man left the store.

The geeky e-detective rewound the tape for a moment, freeze framed it and zoomed in on the man's face. With a few clicks on his keyboard and a little e-detective magic, the printer beside him began to hum and out popped the image. "Here you are, detectives." He held the paper out to Bobby, put it was Alex who reached out to snatch it.

She studied the half-covered face of her stalker, scowled down at it, wanting to rip the picture into tiny shreds. "We'll have to get this Roger," she said, referring to one of their best criminal sketch artists. "He'll probably be able to add on what's missing."

Bobby gave her an agreeing nod and rose, thanking the e-detective as the two left.

---

_"He would've probably stalked her. Got to know her pattern, her routines, before he killed her."_

His own words swam through his head as Bobby requested the security tapes from Diane McNeal's building from the previous weeks. When the pointy-nosed man only sniffed, Alex nudged her partner out of the way and slapped her badge down on the table. "See this?" she asked, pulling the man's attention from Bobby to the shiny medal plate on the counter. "This gives me the authority to _not_ ask nicely. So, give me the damn tapes or we'll get a warrant for them and I'll personally haul your ass down to Central and throw you in a cell for interfering with a murder investigation." She gave him a quick snarl afterwards, causing the man to step it into high gear as he disappeared into a room behind the front desk.

Alex grinned maliciously at her own accomplishment and stepped back from the counter, shoving her badge back into her pocket and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Nicely done, Eames," Bobby praised as the man came back in at a trot. He handed over a medium-sized box and quickly apologized for the trouble he had caused them.

---

Fiona Cook was a pretty woman with a shoulder length mass of streaky blonde hair and soft brown eyes. She was small, but she had a massive ego and an even bigger mouth. She was successful with her growing chain of restaurants and was raking in more dough every year.

She was a killer's next target.

With a glance at her wristwatch, Fiona growled. She was going to be late to her next meeting. The woman quickened her pace down the slick New York sidewalk, cursing and asking herself why in the world she had decided to walk two blocks to the meeting rather than drive.

An eerie cold swept up her back, causing goosebumps to creep over her body. She turned to look back, saw a man walking behind her. He was clicking his fingers across the cell phone in his hands, oblivious to the world. Feeling stupid for being so paranoid, Fiona blew out a shaky laugh and shook her head, relaxed.

Then, there was nothing.

---

Her eyes were bleeding.

Well, not literally.

After studying the photocopied sketch Criminal Sketch Artist Roger Phillips had completed of their perp, Alex and Bobby had jumped into watching weeks worth of footage from the Remington's Apartment Complex. And now, six hours later, they sat in the same place, staring at the same screen with over a dozen paper cups littering the floor and desk.

"I can't see anymore," Bobby stated while scrubbing his hands over his eyes, trying to rub out the fog that was building there.

"Lucky you. I lost my eyesight an hour ago," Alex replied sarcastically as she leaned back to stretch. Bobby reached over her and punched the power button with his thumb, flicking the VCR off. He did the same thing to the TV and extended his limbs as his partner had just done moments before. He rose and walked to meet her at the door. They then flicked off the lights and called it a night.


	5. Hello Again

-1Disclaimer: Law and Order: Criminal Intent and all its characters blah, blah, blaaaaah. Nothing freaking belongs to me.

Warning: Harsh language

A/N: I'm sleepy. I'm hungry. But I had to write this chapter before I went to bed. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to remember it.

---

_Twelve Years // Chapter Five: Hello Again_

They were waiting outside the door that morning. They weren't in uniform, but she knew their faces, could tell by their stances and subtle alertness that they were cops. Alex threw an angry glance over her shoulder at Bobby, who gave her a mock scowl and a shoulder shrug. Clenching her teeth, Alex approached the two men. "Hey," she said, catching their attention quickly. "I know you guys gotta do your job and everything, but I have to do mine too. So, if you get in my way, you're going to pay the price. Got it?" They both gave her two sharp nods and a simultaneous, "Yes, ma'am." causing the woman to smile. She turned on her heels and walked back to her partner. "I can tell this is going to be a good day."

---

Maybe it wasn't.

There was another bouquet of roses sitting on her desk. She shot an arm out when one of her details reached for it, gave him a quick bare of her teeth before she plucked the card from its holster and read quietly to herself.

_Roses are red._

_Violets are blue._

_Another woman is dead._

_And it's all because of you._

_Hello again, Alexandra. Nice to talk to you once more._

_I've noticed you've been trying to find me. I can tell you right now that your search will take you to a dead end. Please, stop. I don't want my best girl to wear herself out._

_Here are twelve more stunning roses for a stunning women. One for every year I've thought about you._

_Signed, _

_Your secret admirer_

Catching the look in his partner's eyes, Bobby snatched the card out of Alex's hands before she could rip it to shreds. He read it over once. Then twice. He flipped it closed to read the name of the florist before he handed it and the vase of flowers to the officers. As if the items were bombs ready to explode, the two cautiously stepped back and walked to the elevator.

"He's killed another woman," Bobby said and had Alex pulling out her cell phone to request a search.

---

It was only an hour later when they hauled Fiona Cook's mutilated body from the trash behind Trey's Diner. A restaurant that just happened to be one of Alex's favorites.

Snapping on a pair of gloves, the two detectives kneeled beside the body and studied. Fingers had been snapped, arms had been broken, and poor Fiona's face had been beaten into a bloody pulp. The only reason they knew it was actually her was the driver's licenses that was taped to her bare midriff. Alex gently pried it off and examined the front for a moment before she flipped it over.

_I don't want you to work too hard, Alexandra._

The words had been written in black permanent marker and were the same chicken-scratch handwriting that had been scrawled across the two cards she had received. She passed it to her partner while chewing angrily on her cheek. He inspected it before he handed it off to a CSU who stuck in into an evidence bag.

And he said, "There's nothing more we can do here."

---

Their next stop was the florist. Alex flashed her badge and the picture of their suspect to the man behind the counter. He nodded at them. "I seen him here earlier today. He wanted a dozen red roses. I brought out at least half a dozen vases of the flowers before he chose the one he liked. Real picky, this guy."

"Thanks," Bobby said. "We'll call you if we need anything else."

They trotted through the snow to get to their SUV. Once inside, Alex started the vehicle and glared angrily through the windshield at the officers that were oh-so-nonchalantly sitting idly in the car across the street. "Don't you think their a little too obvious? I mean, they follow us around freaking everywhere."

"Hence the term 'protective detail'," Bobby replied back, and received a hiss from her.

"You know what I mean." She pulled into the street and drove as Bobby leaned his head against the headrest to think. "One rose for every year. Twelve roses. Maybe he's been in prison for twelve years? You may have been the person to lock him up and now that he's out, seeking his revenge."

"Twelve years ago I was still a uniform. Jeez, I only busted people for drunk driving and drugs," Alex commented as her knuckles grew white from clutching the steering wheel too hard. When Bobby stared over at her, she released her grip quickly and gave the wheel a sharp turn to the right.

"You know as well as I do that sitting in prison for that long can turn a person crazy. Having nothing to do, they plot against the people who put them there in the first place."

"Great. Lovely. Glad to know I'm the object of some convict's sick prison fantasies."

Bobby gave her sarcasm a quick, low chuckle, then the two grew silent. It was a few minutes later by the time the male detective spoke again. "Eames; twelve years, twelve roses. . ."

Alex's eyes grew wide, already knowing what he was planning to say. "Twelve victims."

---

It was Alex who ran a search on all the criminals she had put away since she left the academy nearly two decades ago. When hundreds of names swam onto the screen, she growled and narrowed the search down by typing in which of them was just released after being in prison for twelve years.

One single name popped onto the screen.

"David Fresco," she read aloud as she clicked on the name. Bobby was hovering over her shoulder by the time his picture appeared on the scream. With a hushed curse, Alex reached for the sketch that laid on the desk beside her. Holding it up to the computer's monitor, she said, "Perfect fucking match."

---

It took one swing from the batting ram to have the door swinging open. Officers swarmed in with a chorus of "NYPD!" and after there had been nearly a dozen shouts of "Clear!" Alex and Bobby stepped into the apartment while holstering their guns. Already knowing the layout of the small building from the blueprints they had scanned over, the two detectives made their way to the back room; the bedroom.

It seemed normal enough. White walls, oak furniture, and a few articles of clothing littering the floor. Alex went to poke through the dresser as Bobby moved to the closet.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath, causing Alex to peer over at him.

"What is it?" she asked, and had her own question answered by the time she made it over to the small storage space.

There were no clothes hung up in a neat little row like there should have been, instead, there were pictures, old newspaper articles, and internet writings pasted onto the walls like wallpaper. All of which were about Detective Alexandra Eames and her work with Major Case Squad over the past years. With a shocked blink, Bobby stared down to the floor where candles laid. He knelt, studied for a moment, then motioned his partner down also.

"Look here. The wax has been broken," he explained as he pointed to the cracked candle wax that had fallen to the floor after too many times of lighting the smell-good cylinders. He traced his finger over the cracks, finally falling upon a crooked nail. "A secret door." He pulled on the nail, causing the floor to lift. Bobby pulled out a miniature flashlight from his back pocket and shined it down into the darkness. Little less than a foot down was a single notebook. After exchanging glances, Bobby reached down and picked it up.

The two stood as the male detective began to flip through the book. He shook his head back and forth as he said, "Everything in here is about you. How he wants to kill you, the torture he wants to inflict on you." Enraged, Bobby had to keep himself from ripping the book the shreds. Damn fucking bastard. "It talks about the victims in here too. Diane and Fiona and how he tortured them before he murdered them."

Alex ripped the book from his grasp, and read it herself, just to make sure it was true. "Damn it. Dirty fucking son of a bitch," she cursed. Her heart leapt as she landed on the last page of writing. "The date is marked for today. And there's a name; Kimberly Novak." She paused to stare over at her partner. "Jesus, Bobby, he's already hunting down his next victim."


	6. Kimberly Novak

-1Disclaimer: 'Law and Order: Criminal Intent' and all its characters belong to Dick Wolf. Not me. : (

Warning: Harsh language.

A/N: Raaaawr. Seriously, I'm so mad. I can't write on any other of my stories besides this one because of those dang brain dead monkeys that are attacking my mind. Pah.

Anyways, I really like this chapter. Alex gets mad(der). : ) Enjoy.

---

_Twelve Years // Chapter Six: Kimberly Novak_

They didn't bother to knock. Gun in hand, Alex kicked open the door, something Bobby didn't know she could actually do, and shouted, "Kimberly Novak! Are you here!?"

She stormed the stairs and used her shoulder to bust open the closed door at the end of the hallway. A shriek came from behind the shower curtains as a voice yelled, "What do you want!?"

"Police, Ms. Novak. Please, get out of the shower and collect your things. You're in danger," the female detective replied as Alex reached for the towel that sat on the sink and offered it to Kimberly as the woman turned off the shower.

"What is this about?" Kimberly asked, and snatched the towel, wrapping it around her body as Bobby entered the room. "Let me see your badges."

Glad she was cautious, Alex offered her badge as he partner did the same, studying Kimberly while the woman examined their badges. Her shoulder length blonde hair had been darkened by the water and her brown eyes were fiery from the sudden invasion of her privacy. She stood just north of five foot and had a lean, athletic body. "Tell me what's going on," Kimberly demanded as the detectives pocketed their badges.

"There's no time now. Please, just get some of your things. We have to leave," Alex explained as she ushered her out of the room.

"I don't understand. I have the right to know what's going on!"

"Yes, you do, and I'll explain everything soon. Just do what I say."

---

He was pissed.

Sitting in his backup apartment, David Fresco remembered what had happened only but a few hours earlier. He had been sitting in his car, waiting patiently outside her apartment when the black SUV had pulled up and the detectives had sprinted out. He had ran at that point, put the petal to the metal and went driving off with a squeal of tires. And now, he sat in the dark, tapping his foot while trying to mentally mend his once fool-proof plan.

She was going to pay.

---

"He's probably licking his wounds at this point. He'll stew for a day or two and then attack again. He won't stop until his mission has been completed," Bobby explained to his captain after he and his partner had summed up the day's work.

"So, tell me, detectives; are you two getting anywhere or are you just beating your heads against the same brick wall while more women are killed?" Ross asked as he went to sit behind his desk

"It's not like we can get every blonde-headed, five-foot-two woman off of the streets," Alex snapped and put her head on the chopping block.

Ross gave her a glare as he said, "You're a liability to this case, detective. You're getting too wrapped up in it and you're the center of our suspect's killings. I don't know why I've kept you on this case, but I'm taking you off now."

Alex blinked at him, mouth agape. "You can't take me off!" she exclaimed after a moment, slamming her hands on his desk.

"Careful, detective. I'm only taking you off _this_ case. Keep this irrational behavior up and I'll suspend you from this precinct.," Ross replied without missing a beat. "Go home, detective. You look like hell."

"You're not taking me off this case!" she hollered back, attracting the attention from the detectives that lingered outside.

"Fine, I'll just suspend you. Good-bye, detective. You can come back when this case has been closed."

"Mother fucking asshole," Alex didn't bother to mutter once she was out in the bullpen. She snatched her coat and threw it on, storming for the elevator as Bobby trotted after her.

"Eames!" he called and she didn't even bother to look back at him.

"Hey, thanks for sticking up for me back there," she said sarcastically as she rammed her thumb onto the down button.

"Come on, Eames, don't be like that."

"Be like what!? Be like the person responsible for two murdered women and the attempted kidnapping/murder of another? Sure, Bobby, I won't '_be like that'_ anymore." She stepped into the elevator, resisting the urge to just punch a hole through the wall.

Bobby walked in after her. "Okay, I'm sorry. I should have said something," he apologized, feeling that the attempt was stupid and futile. She'd still be mad.

"Yeah, whatever." Alex stared at the numbers above the door as they descended to garage level.

---

Damn it, she had forgot that her house was still roped off.

She had to keep herself from slamming Bobby's own front door in his face as she marched into the bathroom and locked herself in. There she slid to the floor and beat her fists against her throbbing head, trying to keep herself from breaking every damn thing.

It was a few hours later that she woke up, a sob humming at her throat. She shot up from her place on the cold bathroom floor and stared around frantically, making sure that David Fresco wasn't actually in the room, hovering over her with blood-dripping fingers. She swiped a hand over her damp forehead and rose, unlocking the door and stepping out.

The sleeping form propped up against the wall beside the bathroom door startled her, causing Alex to jump and slap her hand over her mouth to keep a shriek down. She squinted through the dark, finally made the figure out to be Bobby, and suddenly, guilt flooded over her. The man had been sitting outside the room the entire time, waiting for her come out so they could talk.

With a sigh, Alex knelt beside her partner and shook his arm. "Wake up, Bobby," she said as he jerked awake.

He blinked at her and said, "Eames, we - "

"Go to bed, Bobby. We'll talk in the morning," she told him as she rose to offer him a hand.


	7. PeanutButter Sandwich

-1Disclaimer: 'Law and Order: Criminal Intent' and all its characters belong to Dick Wolf. Not me. : (

A/N: **I was reading over this story (using the site's version) and I noticed that this chapter was all centered, so I decided to resubmit it. Maybe it won't do that again. Sorry if it does, though.**

Okay, so I've decided that I'm going to completely finish this story before I even _think_ about adding onto my others. That way, I won't have as many ideas floating in my head and I'll be able to get the others done faster. Does that sound good to you guys?

Anyways, I made up Alex's sister's name. Don't think that's her real name because it's not. Does anyone know what her real name actually is? Same with Alex's nephews name. 

---

_Twelve Years // Chapter Seven: Peanut-Butter Sandwich_

Okay, so maybe they didn't get to have their talk. It was by the time that Alex had groggily rolled off the couch and trudged into the bathroom when she realized that Bobby wasn't in the apartment. Confused, she walked out to stare at the stove's digital clock and hissed when she found out that it was well past ten o'clock and just a couple of hours after their shift had started.

Well, a couple of hours after Bobby's shift had started.

At the moment, Alex had no shift. She had no freaking job due to the fact that goddamned Ross had suspended her. With a kick at the couch, Alex stormed into the bathroom and turned on the water until it was scalding hot.

---

Bobby felt alone and empty without his partner. There was no one to laugh with after they had made a sarcastic comment, there was no one to give a cup of steaming coffee to when they needed it the most, there was no one to listen to him as he went over a list of ideas, there was no one that could just look at him and know exactly what he was thinking. _There was no one._

What was Ross thinking when he split them up? Was he on drugs? Without an Eames, there was no Goren. Without a Goren, there was no Eames.

They were like a peanut butter sandwich; you couldn't have a peanut butter sandwich without the peanut butter and the bread _together_. Without the bread, the peanut butter would have nothing to embrace it and it would go everywhere. Without the peanut butter, the bread would have nothing to hold onto and it would be just plain old bread.

And Bobby was really missing his bread.

With a sigh and a glance at Alex's desk, Bobby rose and walked for the door.

---

She crept towards the cabinet, afraid of what might be lurking behind the door. Evil dust bunnies? Killer moth balls? A creepy spider with a thousand slimy eyeballs? You never knew what to look for when you opened Bobby Goren's kitchen cabinets. Alex shuddered and position the fly-swatter in her hands as if it were a baseball bat. With a quick breath in, she reached over and plucked the door open.

To her surprised relief, nothing jumped out to suck her face off or burn the flesh off of her body. And then, once she studied the scene, she found there actually was _nothing_. Only some old bread. Not even a jar of peanut butter to go with it! How did Bobby eat if he had _nothing_? Did he chew on the coffee table?

With a growl, Alex tossed the fly-swatter behind her shoulder and walked into the living room where she slipped on her shoes. She then threw on her jacket and headed for the door. She was hungry, damn it, and Bobby's shelves needed to be filled.

Alex was shifting through the soups of a little corner grocery store when her cell phone began to chime. She pulled it out and studied the caller ID:

_Ellen's Cell_

Alex frowned at her younger sister's name, wondering what in the world she was calling her on her cell phone for. Alex remembered specifically telling Ellen that her cell phone was for work and emergency use only. Coming to the conclusion that Ellen was only calling because she most likely got a parking ticket and needed a way out of it, Alex flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Alex, he's gone," her sister's voice rang back, hiccupping sobs between each word.

Suddenly frightened by her sister's hysteria, Alex's training took over and she cupped the phone against her ear. "What is it, Ellen? Tell me slowly."

"Christopher. . . he's gone. They don't know what happen. There was a fire drill. Oh, God, Alex, Chris!"

"Ellen, _Ellie_," Alex tried to calm her sister by using her pet name. "Just calm down. Where are you?"

"Chris' preschool. Please hurry, Alex, I want my baby."

---

Alex really wished she had her badge, that way she could stop all the hysterical commotion that was swimming in the room. But fucking Ross had taken her badge, along with her gun, when he suspended her, so now she was out to fend for herself without the comforting weight on her hip.

Alex immediately spotted her sister and brother-in-law from across the room and cut the space between them in half with three long strides. Ellen turned towards her, teared up as she tossed herself into her sister's arms. "Oh, Alex! He's gone! Chris is gone!"

"Shh," Alex cooed as she ran comforting circles over Ellen's back. "Tell me who's in charge and we'll get to the bottom of this."

With a sniff and a swipe at her damp cheeks, Ellen pointed a shaking finger to a boney-looking woman in black. Alex glanced up at her brother-in-law, who all but read her mind and took his wife in his arms, guiding her away. Alex then turned to the woman Ellen had identified as the one in charge.

"My name's Alex Eames, I'm Ellen's sister - "

"I've seen you before," the older woman interrupted, giving Alex the once over. "You're a detective, I've see you on TV - "

"Please, not now." Alex ran her fingers through her hair. "Tell me what happened."

"In short; the fire alarm went off and we ushered the children outside as quick as we could. Once it was cleared that there was no fire and we got back inside, we took a headcount and noticed that Christopher was not among the children. We did a search of the surrounding area and, when we came up empty handed, we called your sister and her husband."

"Did you notice anything strange before the fire alarm went off."

"No, not really."

"Was anyone here that wasn't supposed to be?"

"Hm," the woman looked up, as if flipping through a mental notebook. "Ah, yes. There was a man standing at the doorway before the alarm went off. I was walking for him when the sirens went off."

_Son of a bitch. _Alex thought, and reached into her back pocket, pulling out a photo.

"That's him!" the woman said in triumph and had every bone in Alex's body turning to ice.

The photo was the face of David Fresco.


	8. Old Memories

Disclaimer: 'Law and Order: Criminal Intent' and all its characters belong to Dick Wolf. Not me. : (

Warning: Harsh language.

A/N: Sorry for the extended delay. Lost my flash drive which had the first part of this chapter in it. I finally found it when I cleaned my room. : )

I don't know where Joe (Alex's late husband) actually proposed to her at, so I just made something up. Kay?

Anyways, another chapter. Enjoy.

---

_Twelve Years // Chapter Eight: Old Memories_

Bobby found it harder to question someone when he didn't have the petite blonde at his side. He thanked the little old woman that lived across the hall from David Fresco and blew out a breath of air when he mentally told himself once again that he wasn't getting any closer to finding the suspect. He was heading for the next door by the time his cell phone began to scream. He fumbled for it in his pocket and pulled it out, scanning the caller ID before he answered. "What's up, Eames?"

"That mother-fucking asshole has my nephew."

"What? Who?"

"David fucking Fresco kidnapped Christopher. I'm looking at the son of a bitch's face, clear as goddamned day, on this security tape. I'm going to kill him, Bobby. Tear him fucking limb by limb." Her voice was deathly calm, causing goosebumps to crawl up Bobby's spine.

"Where are you?" he asked, and she gave him the address. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Don't do anything until I get there."

---

Maybe it was odd to have security cameras in a building full of three and four year olds, but that oddity would become very useful when it came to charging David Fresco with kidnapping - on top of the other charges that were rapidly pilling up against him.

Bobby watched the scene play out before him, and just as Alex said, it was clear as goddamned day. They watched as David moved slightly to the left when he saw Mrs. Pharr - the preschool's headmistress - coming towards him. Then, caught with the security camera that lingered over the door, David reached up and pulled down the fire alarm. Mrs. Pharr turned and rushed back into the other room, collecting children while David slipped into the crowd of frantic teachers, blending in very well as he made his way to the very back of the pack where little Christopher stood staring around confused.

Bobby saw out of the corner of his eye as Alex clenched and unclenched her fists while on screen, David slipped out with Christopher. The little boy was sobbing and yelling, but the cries for help were only whispers against the screaming alarms.

Bobby reached over and hit the "stop" button, causing Alex's fiery eyes to snap to his. "We'll catch him, Alex,' he told her reassuringly as he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze.

"And what if we're too late?" she asked, and turned to storm out of the room before he could answer.

---

Since Alex was technically not an active detective at the moment, the two set up in Bobby's apartment. With a map spread over the kitchen table, pictures and screen caps of David Fresco strewn about the place, and handwritten notes scribbled over several dozen sheets of paper, Bobby and Alex went to work. Grabbing a marker, Bobby hovered over the map and began to dot significant places.

"David's home and work." He highlighted two places on the map, both just a few blocks from each other. "Where the bodies of Diane McNeal and Fiona Cook were found." Two more dots. "Kimberly Novak's home. McNeal and Cook's home." Dot. Dot. Dot. "Your home, work. The preschool." His eyes flicked over to Alex, but she showed not emotion as he highlighted the last area, only stared down at the paper.

"Look," she said, pointing to the Novak's apartment, the two other victim's homes and the places they were found after they were dead. She took the marker out of Bobby's hand and connected the dots. "There's a pattern. It's the letter **A**." She gave a disgusted shake of her head, then pointed to her nephew's preschool. "This is outside of the pattern."

"He wasn't planning to kidnap Christopher. We made him mad when we saved Kimberly, so he got revenge," Bobby commented and rubbed his hand over his chin. "He's trying to make a point."

"Point fucking made," Alex said, her voice shaking in the slightest bit as she fisted her hands.

Bobby bit down on his tongue, unsure of what to say to her. Unsure if he should even say anything to her in the first place. Instead, he turned to look back down at the map as he circle the area around the dots. "This is most likely his comfort zone. He knows this area, so he'll be somewhere in or around here with Christopher. Most likely, the place where he is hiding will be somewhere you have visited or have memories with. He's a creature of habit. Even though he went out of his profilic killing spree doesn't mean he would impulsively go to a place you've been." Bobby handed her the marker. "Mark them down."

---

The final count came out to be twelve. How freaking ironic.

With Bobby's spare gun in her pocket, they slipped into his car and sped off to the first building; a small icecream shop Alex had visited many times in her youth. Although, by the time she turned 30, the shop's owner had been forced to shut down his business, and the building was left to collect cobwebs and dust.

Bobby parked the car two blocks away from the run-down building and he and Alex slipped out. Even as the woman ran, she felt nothing. This wasn't the place. This wasn't where David was keeping her nephew. She could feel that this was not the right place.

And she could see it once they cleared the building that was separated into four small rooms. Meeting back at the front door, Bobby gave his partner a reassuring look before she began an angry walk back to the car.

They cleared three more buildings and several more old memories; Alex's old elementary school, her first job at a fast food resutraunt, and the club where her late husband, Joe, proposed to her. It was when they slipped out of the car and began walking towards her old high school that everything in her began to jump. It being the middle of winter break for the students and teachers, not a soul besides the detectives lingered around the old building. Finger's twitching over the gun, Alex lead the way. "We won't be able to get in from the front, but if I remember, the back door to the lunchroom was never locked."

They skirted around the school, Alex trying to keep her cool by chattering away. "You know what? I only pulled over Fresco because he had a busted tailight. It was then that I found some crack on him. I mean, it's not fault that he does crack, right? Why not take it out on the dealer who sold it to him instead of me?" she asked as the two approached a single door that sat alone at the back of the school. She reached for the handle, praying that the lock was still broken.

It was.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Alex pulled open the door and stepped in. No lights, no noise. Nothing. Pulling flashlights from their pockets, the two wandered through the kitchen. "This way," Alex instructed and made her way out into the lunchroom.

"How'd you know about the lock?" Bobby asked, more out of keeping his parnter talking and calm than curiosity.

"My friends and I used to cut class sometimes after lunch and we'd come back in through that door so no one would spot us." She tried a smile, but it didn't make it to her eyes.

They exited the lunchroom and when Alex moved to walk down the hallway to the left, Bobby grabbed her arm. She shot him an angry glare over her shoulder and hissed, "Get off."

"We're staying together."

"Then we'll take more time finding Chris." She jerked her arm out of his grasp and took a step back. "I'm not wasting valuable time. His life is at stake." Bobby started to protest again when she began to walk away once, but the look she gave him had the male detective stalking the other way, mentally praying for her safety.

Alex crept down the hallway, flicked off her light. She wanted the element of surprise, something David might not have. The woman took a right down another hallway, approached the first door on her right, remembered it to be her ninth grade algebra class. With a deep breath in, she balanced herself and kicked the lock door in.

---

A/N: Gosh, I've been picture the last paragraph of this chapter and the next chapter in my head for such a freaking long time. I always put the images I see to music in my head. And when I see the scene above, I hear the song One Step Closer by Linkin Park playing. When Alex is walking down the hallway alone, the song starts, and she kicks in the door when the music hits its first dramatic point. Can you guys see and hear it to? If you've never heard the song and want to listen to it, AIM or MSN me and I'll send it to you. : )

AIM : Kiteatsface

MSN:


	9. Room 125

-1Disclaimer: 'Law and Order: Criminal Intent' and all its characters belong to Dick Wolf. Not me. : (

A/N: Another chapter. Tralala. One more after this. Sorry for the delay.

---

_Twelve Years // Chapter Nine: Room 125_

Nothing.

Nothing in the room. No one. No David. No Christopher.

With a frustrated growl, Alex turned from the room and stormed down to the next. It wasn't until she kicked down the third door on the right that her ears caught the faint sobs. . .

Christopher! She pulled herself out of the room and pushed her feet into a running sprint. The crying became louder, almost matched the volume of her pounding heart, as she neared the end of the hallway. It was when she stopped at door number 125 that her heart skipped a beat and jumped into her throat. Peeking into the tiny sliver of a window, Alex studied the room.

And saw her nephew.

In the corner, jerking at the wrist that was tied to the teacher's desk, was the tiny three year old. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks, tiny trails of blood ran down his fingers from the rope that was rubbing the tender skin on his wrist raw.

Alex reached out, and pushed open the door she knew would be unlocked.

"Christopher? Chrissy?" she cooed as the child looked up at her.

"Auuuntie," he cried and held out his hands for her.

"Shh, I'm here, baby."

By the time she heard it cutting through the air, it was already too late, and the bat nailed her in the side.

---

Bobby looked through the window and into the classroom. Nothing. Just like the last dozen and a half rooms. Frustrated, Bobby ran a hand through his short crop of hair and turned to look down the hallway where he and Alex had split up. Seeing this, his mind screamed at him, but he couldn't make out the words. Something was wrong.

But what was it?

---

Salty tears burst from the corners of her eyes as the pain stabbed her body. Alex screamed and crashed to the floor, trying to figure out what had happened. Were her ribs broken? She only had a moment, because by the time she looked up to the person who had struck her, the bat was already flying down again.

Despite her injury, she rolled and had the bat bouncing off the tiled floor. Alex felt the adrenaline pump through her body by the time she caught the crazed and excited look in David's eyes. He swung again, she ducked, and Christopher screamed out a sob. She couldn't remember what direction the gun had flown out of her hand. Left? Right?

Alex scrambled to her feet, narrowly missing the bat again. She turned to face her attacker as she screamed, "Let Christopher go! He has no part in this!"

The words didn't seem to register, for the man kept swinging. With one daring move, Alex crouched and rammed her upper body into David's stomach. He grunted and the woman couldn't help but smile when she heard the bat clatter to the ground. It was only a moment by the time her fists were in his face, beating it into a bloody pulp as he screamed. David pumped his legs forward, caught her in the abdomen, and sent her flying backwards into a row of desks.

She couldn't feel the pain that exploded through her, she didn't have time to, as she launched herself forward again. She caught his shirt, held him still while she got in a few kicks. He clawed at her face, managed to get in a couple good punches that had her stumbling back and swiping the blood from her nose.

"Bastard," she mumbled, and kicked herself forward again.

---

Bobby's feet pounded against the floor. He heard the screams, the grunts of pain, and all he could think about was Alex. _Is she okay? Where is she?_

_Will I get there in time?_

He rounded a corner and the noises became louder. Bobby prayed for strength as he neared the door.

---

Alex coughed violently as a knee was thrown up into her abdomen. She fell to the ground, sputtering and spitting up blood as she tried to regain herself.

"I've waited for this day, Alexandra. Twelve long years and I'll finally get to make you pay." He reached down for her, caught a lock of her sweat- and blood-matted hair and pulled her to her knees. "I'll remember this moment for the rest of my life."

Alex could see it from the corner of her eye, the glint of the gun on the floor. It was only a few feet away. She was only a few feet away from her savior.

She looked back up at David, smiled. "So will I."

Her fist shot up, caught him in the family jewels. As David went down, she pushed herself forward, caught the gun, and jumped to her feet. She already had it aimed towards his head when a figure came to a sudden stop at the doorway.

"Eames," Bobby said with a huff of breath. "Eames, put down the gun."

She wasn't listening, only staring at the sobbing man in front of her.

"Come on. Eames, please. Wouldn't you rather have him in a cage for the rest of his life rather than dead?"

Silence.

"Alex."

The use of her first name seemed to register, for her white-knuckled grip on the gun loosened. Her eyes flicked over to her partner, down to the murderer, - "Think of your nephew, Alex." - over to the sobbing little boy.

The gun slipped from her hand.

---

A/N: You guys thought Bobby was going to rescue her from the big, bad David, huh? NO! That's lame and cliché. D: 

Anyways, know how I was talking about the song thing? Well, when the gun hits the ground, I hear the very last word - "break" - being spoken (sung, whatever) and then nothing. Black. How about you guys? Anyways, one more chapter after this. : )


	10. Partners

-1Disclaimer: 'Law and Order: Criminal Intent' and all its characters belong to Dick Wolf. Not me. : (

A/N: Final chapter! Or is it?

Yeah, it is. : )

Enjoy.

---

_Twelve Years // Chapter Ten: Partners_

"Shh, Chrissy-baby, auntie's here," Alex cooed to the crying child as she dropped by his side and began to untie the rope from around his wrist. Once that was finished, she ripped at her shirt and, when a sliver of it came undone, gently wrapped it around the raw skin. She kissed the top of it and said, "All better. Now, come here."

She scooped him up and stood, nearly falling over when the pain finally struck. Alex glanced over to her partner, who had already handcuffed David and was on his cell phone - most likely calling for backup and an ambulance. He caught her wince from the corner of his eye and shut his phone after saying good-bye, walked over to her. "Hiya, Chris," he said and went to take the child from Alex. To his relief, she didn't protest and, instead, leaned back against the desk.

"Did he hurt you, Chrissy?" Alex asked her nephew.

With a shake of his head, the boy replied, "No. He hurted you."

"I'm fine." She gave him a smile. "Promise."

"A bus is on the way," Bobby told her and when she gave him the _no-way-in-hell _look, he scowled. "You need it."

---

She could only stand being in the hospital for three days, rather then the recommended week from her doctor. Refusing to be wheeled out in a chair, Alex limped out of the building and slipped into the passenger's seat of Bobby's car. When he asked what the damage was, she scowled and pursed her lips.

"Two cracked ribs, one broken arm, a sprained leg, and a couple hundred scrapes and bruises. Nothing freaking major," she replied sarcastically, and glanced down at the neon pink cast around her arm. Oh, how she was going to get teased at work for this. "Fresco's the one who suffered the most. Couple concussions, broken arms, broken fingers, two sprained legs. . ." She trailed off, allowing herself a malicious little smile. Bobby shook his head at her.

There was silence as they drove until Alex finally decided to break it. "Hey, Bobby?"

"Yeah, Eames?"

"Thanks. Thanks a lot. You put up with me this whole time and you didn't even raise your voice to me once. You saved me from Fresco. And from myself." Alex glanced over at her partner as they stopped at a light. He stared back over to her as his lips curled and his eyes softened.

He reached over and gave her uninjured hand a gentle squeeze. "That's what partners are for, Eames."

---

Alex went on leave for six weeks to recover from her injuries, but remained on top of her game by calling Bobby everyday to check on Fresco. As ordered by the captain, she was not allowed to go to trails freely due to the incident with the man, but when the People asked her to testify against him, she gladly pulled her ass out of bed and limped down to the courthouse.

David Fresco was charged with two counts of murder one, three counts of attempted murder, one count of aggravated battery, one count burglary, and three count of kidnapping. He was sentenced to life in jail without the possibly of parole.

And that made Alex _very_ happy.

_Fin._

---

A/N: Lame ending. Shuddup.

Just to clear this up in case anyone was confused; David was not counted with battery of a _police officer _because Alex was not on duty at that point (but he was counted with aggravated battery). He was counted with burglary because he entered the school with the intent to do a felony (kill Alex/Christopher). Annnd, yeah. I think that's it.

Did you guys like: )


End file.
